The Spy
by Plaid Beans
Summary: Cherry feels guilty after Bob's death, but not for the reason everyone thinks. She won't be able to rid herself of the guilt until she helps her would-be enemies- The Greasers. But not all the greasers want her help, some just want her dead. ONESHOT


_Bob's dead. _

The thought didn't shock me in the way I thought it might- it just made me real numb all over. Almost like someone had put me in a freezer and left me there. My mom was the one who told me, and Randy's mom had told her. I knew it, though, even before she told me. I knew it when the phone rang, that was when I got numb.

I was sitting in the kitchen reading _Romeo and Juliet _for English, and Mom jumped to get the phone the second it started to ring. The only thing she said throughout the entire conversation was 'Hello, Linda!' I could hear the tone in Randy's mothers voice, high pitched and queasy like she was about to be sick, but I couldn't hear the words. I didn't have to, though, because I already knew.

Mom got as white as the milk in my glass, and she had to brace herself against the wall as she listened in dumb-struck horror. Even though I was numb, I still managed to quickly move over to her and hold her up. Her eyes were getting glassy, but I couldn't tell whether or not she was going to cry or barf first, because her mouth was hanging open and she started to gag towards the end of the conversation. Without saying goodbye, Mom struggled to put the phone back on the receiver. Then, she turned to me.

"Bob's dead."

I couldn't move. The numbness had completely taken over my body now. I tried to nod, or say something, or do anything other than stand still, but I couldn't. Suddenly, the weight of my mother crashed down on me, and my knees failed beneath my yellow dress. We both crumpled to the floor as if a giant hand had smashed right down on our heads.

Mom was crying hysterically, but I couldn't bring myself to cry. I think I was still numb, and the numbness of the entire thing was keeping me from crying. Later, I did cry- but not then. The only thing I could do was think, and my thoughts were killing me.

_It was me, I killed Bob. _I remember thinking as my mom muffled her sobs into my shoulder. _I walked out on him because of the booze. And he got mad… _I had learned a long time ago that it wasn't safe to be near Bob when he was drunk. Everything made him mad when he was boozed up and he didn't act one bit like himself. _He said he would get the greasers we had been with. He said that we should have never picked hoods over them. _

But now he's dead, and it's my fault. I knew what had happened, but between shrill cries my mother explained to me anyway.

"Those- those hoodlums from the east side killed him. They killed him, Cherry, they stabbed him and they killed him. Th-they killed him. They…" Her voice was lost to her sobs, and she continued to cry until suddenly she bolted up and ran to the bathroom.

I left before my mom was finished throwing-up. I just couldn't stand to see my mom so sick with grief when I couldn't even shed one tear for my dead boyfriend. In my red Sting Ray, I could think more clearly. _I need to see Randy, _I thought distantly and started up my car, _I need to talk to him._

Randy didn't live very far, he was only two blocks away in our luxurious, west side neighborhood and he was sitting on the white porch steps of his huge house when I pulled up. He didn't look up at me when I walked over to him, and he didn't acknowledge me when she sat down next to him. _He's numb, _I realized instantly, _but he's been crying. _It wasn't hard to notice; Randy had brown eyes that were red today from some mixture of crying and his hangover.

Randy shut his eyes slowly and didn't open them for a long time. Tears started to slip through the cracks though, but I just stared at him. It wasn't an angry stare, or a sad stare, but just a lost stare. Finally, he turned to look at me, and in a hoarse whisper he said, "Cherry, I'm sorry."

And he was sorry, I could tell. But I didn't blame him, I never did and I never will, but I knew he blamed himself. Bob's death was killing him just as much as it was killing me.

"We cornered them against the fountain in the park at night- you know that park where all the little kids go, don't you?- and we tried to drown that young one. There was no one there and we were bigger than him and his friend, the one with black hair. We were boozed up real bad, Cherry, real bad.

"We would have killed him, we had half of his body in the water and there was no way he would have been able to get out. He was dying, I could feel it.

"And then that small one with dark hair, he just yelled something and then he was in front of Bob. I saw it, Cherry, I saw him stab Bob. He was crazy, I could see it in his eyes, and he was shaking. But he did it, I don't know where the knife came from, but he just stuck it right into Bob. And he stood there and-"

Randy stopped talking, his mouth was open but nothing was coming out. His brown eyes were wide and bulging and he started to shake. First his hands were shaking, then his arms and shoulders. He flopped over and started to cry into his knees. I didn't know until later that I was crying too.

I didn't go to see Randy for five days. I wasn't mad at him or anything, I was just really busy. I had never known anyone who had died before, but I always thought that when somebody died everyone was supposed to leave you alone to cry by yourself. Boy, was I wrong.

All of my friends came over to say that they were sorry and tell me that it wasn't my fault, even though it was. They brought me flowers and cards and candy and all their hate towards the greaser boys who had stabbed my boyfriend. I didn't bother to tell them that they were wrong, but I didn't let myself agree with them. I couldn't, because it wasn't them, it was me.

I wanted to talk to Randy, he knew Bob for longer than I did and I thought he should know what I was going to do. But, like I said before, I was too busy. People I didn't even know would come up to me at school just when I was about to talk to Randy and ask me about Bob. Finally, I just gave up trying to get in touch with him at school.

I'm not the type of girl to keep secrets from my parents, and I don't like to lie to them. Tonight, however, I had to. If they knew where I was going, I would never see the light of day again.

It was a Friday night, but despite that my mom made me finish all of my homework before I left the house. I had told her I was going to go to a party, but that wasn't true. I knew she was thinking that I was in no condition to be partying so soon after Bob's death, but she didn't have the heart to tell me that. She just tried to keep me at home as long as she could, but soon enough the homework ran out and I left. The first stop was Randy's house.

Randy saw me pull up from his window, and met me outside.

"Where are you going? It's kind of late." He said as he climbed into the car with me.

I decided not to beat around the bush. "I'm going to talk to the greasers. I need to apologize; this is all my fault." I said quickly, and I thought for a second he might not have understood my fast explanation, but his face went stark white and I knew he understood. I tried to finish before he could interrupt me with what I knew would be a 'no.' "I can make sure that Ponyboy and Johnny don't get in big trouble for killing Bob. You all were drunk and you instigated it, and they fought back in self defense! If I testify for them, they can stop hiding and maybe everything will just blow over."

Randy was staring at me blankly and he just shook his head. "If you go, they'll kill you." He said so quietly, it couldn't even be considered a whisper.

"But I have to go! Don't you understand, Randy? This isn't their fault! I can't live with knowing that because of me, two innocent kids are going to be on the run for the rest of their lives! It isn't fair!

Randy's hands gripped mine so tightly I thought he might tear them off my wrists all together. "Cherry, this is _not _your fault. It's mine, and Bob's, and the other guys- because we were the drunk ones who picked the fight. You had nothing to do with it."

My voice was starting to get shrill as I fought to get out of his grip. "Let go of me! It was my fault because I was the one who was with them! If I had just stayed with my kind, then none of this would have happened!"

Randy released my hands slowly, and then smiled grimly. "What kind of world do we live in where people can't just be people? We have to be 'kinds'. Rich, poor, stupid, smart, strong, weak, greaser, Soc. Sometimes it just doesn't make sense."

I thought about what he had said and then smiled back at him. Bob had been Randy's best friend since grade school, but I had known him longer. We were a lot alike, and I knew he would understand.

"That's why I need to go."

Randy nodded and said, "I'll go with you. You need someone else there to protect you. I know that sounds really bad, but Cherry, those greasers will hurt you. They're really mad, and I don't want to loose another friend."

It took a lot of effort to put a smile on my face. "I know how you feel, but if you come, they'll surely kill us. Think about it Randy, they've seen _you_. They know you were there and they will kill you if they get the chance. The only one who knows me and who know I'm Bob's girlfriend were those greasers from the drive-in. If I get caught by any others they wouldn't do much more then smack me around and I can handle that. I need to go alone."

Randy frowned but finally nodded. "Alright, but take this," out of his pocket Randy pulled a ten inch switchblade. I cringed.

"Randy! What are you doing with that?" He flicked it open, and I nearly screamed. "Put that thing away! You'll hurt yourself!"

Randy groaned and rolled his eyes. "Stop being such a girl, I've held a blade before. Some of the guys at school were flashing it around, they said they had jumped a greaser this morning and had taken this off of him. They gave it to me, and I'm giving it to you. Use it if you have to. I refuse to let another friend get hurt over something so stupid."

He showed me how to use it, closed it, and handed it to me. With it in my hands, I vaguely remembered something. I had seen it before: it was a sleek, classy switch blade- very expensive. It would have been unusual for a greaser to have something this nice unless they had stolen it. That's when it hit me- Two-Bit. Two-Bit, the funny, good-natured greaser from the drive-in had the same knife. He had been flirting with Marcia and had bragged about how he had stalked through a sports store for two hours before stealing it.

I thanked Randy for the knife and left before it got too late.

It seemed like I had blinked and I was already on the east side of town. When I passed by the drive-in where I had first met Ponyboy, Johnny, Two-Bit, and Dallas, I cringed. _Because of me, the only few greasers- _I paused for a second and realized how hypocritical I was being- _the only few people who had ever bothered to understand me are facing the electric chair. Ponyboy and Johnny are facing death._

I felt my eyes start to water for what seemed like the millionth time over the past few days, but I held back the tears. I didn't want to cry where I was going. I didn't want to look like the weak, little, vulnerable Soc that they would already assume I was.

It was ten thirty, and I knew I would be late getting home for my curfew of eleven, but I didn't care. I just wanted to make things right. Surely that was worth a few lies, a few late nights, and a few bruises? And yes, I knew there would be bruises. I didn't expect to go into greaser territory and not get jumped. I just hoped no one would recognize me before I got to Two-Bit, because if they knew I was Bob's girl, I wouldn't live to see dawn.

I had to shine my headlights on every greaser face that I passed by in the hope of spotting Two-Bit. Of course I felt bad about this, but it was necessary. It was odd to see the looks on people's faces when they saw me. At first they're faces would pause on a look of dumbfounded shock, as if they had never seen a Soc before, and then it would contort into a wolfish snarl when they realized what I was.

Once I had slowly driven by ten infuriated greasers and hadn't found Two-Bit, I started to panic. My clammy hands were gripping the steering wheel so tight my knuckles were turning white. I started to breath heavier. Realizing how scared I was getting, I tried to snap myself out of it, but failed. _Cherry! Get a hold of yourself! If you're afraid now in your own car, what's going to happen when you actually have to __**apologize **__to them? _

I had reached a poor looking neighborhood after driving in greaser territory for twenty minutes and immediately I spotted a whole gang of them in a vacant lot across from some of the houses. I drove past them, initially afraid of looking to see if Two-Bit was there, but I turned around soon enough. Even if he wasn't there, I had to ask somebody where he was or at least give the message. I knew I was going to get hurt, I just hoped it wouldn't be too obvious. I didn't want my parents to worry anymore then they already were.

Before I had gathered enough courage to get out of the car, the gang had already spotted my Sting Ray. They were slowly moving around, and I knew that if I didn't go over there, they would surely come over to me. Slowly, I got out of the car to meet them.

Boy, it was cold. It seemed that the second I stepped out of the car a giant gust of chilly wind came and blew me around. I pushed my dress down, hoping that it wouldn't blow up with the wind higher then my thighs, and then wrapped my arms around myself to keep warm. _A jacket wouldn't have hurt… _I thought angrily as I realized how unprepared I was. Thankfully, I still had the switch blade that Randy had given me. I had stuck it in the top left of my bra by my armpit. I kept it hidden because even I knew better than to walk into greaser territory waving a knife around. The only other preparation I had made was my long red hair in a ponytail. I was glad I had done that, because it I hadn't, I wouldn't have been able to see the greasers whispering to each other as I walked towards them.

I felt sick, but I wouldn't let myself show it. Holding my head high I continued to strut towards them. Immediately I recognized one, but he was the last person I wanted to see.

Dallas Winston, the toughest, roughest, most cut-throat greaser of all. My breath caught in my throat, and my step faltered a little, but I continued over to them. There were thirteen greasers smoking and drinking, not including Dally, and they were all glaring at me. I didn't recognize any of them other than Dally, which scared me. I had been hoping to find Two-Bit, but Sodapop would have worked and so would have Ponyboy's other brother. I had defiantly not been aiming to run into Dallas.

I was surprised by the fact that they didn't immediately surround me, like I had suspected they would have done. If they were going to jump me, they wouldn't want to give me space to escape. But after thinking about it, I realized that jumping someone with such a clear disadvantage as me was something only a Soc would do. Wincing at the thought, I decided that there was at least one thing about the greasers that was nobler than Soc's.

"Hey," Dally cooed with a raised eye brow from his group of friends, "You're that broad from the movies. We had some fun didn't we?"

The other greasers laughed loudly from behind him, and I felt my face brighten. "Hmm, no. I clearly remember not having any fun when you were around."

"Wait," a tall, lean greaser spoke from beside Dally, "I've seen her somewhere before. You ride in rodeos, don't you? You're pretty good."

"Yeah, Steve," Dally said with a sharp smirk, "she's good on and off the horse."

This received more laughs and my face just proceeded to match my hair with each passing second. With a glare I shot back, "Look, why don't you just shut your trap because I didn't come here to hear you talk dirt."  
"Well then, maybe you should tell us why you are here because some of us still haven't figured it out yet." Dally hissed and started to slide towards me. The rest of the greasers stayed where they were, but waited with impatient expressions for my answer.

"I'm here," I started after a gulp, and tried to remain calm as I talked to the approaching danger that was Dallas Winston. "I'm here because I wanted to help make things right. Because this whole thing is my fault."

"Damn right it is," Dally snarled at me, now standing over me to the point where I had to look up to talk to his face. My body was urging me to step back, but I refused. "Because of you, two kids are running for their lives. What the hell did you think you could do to fix this mess? We don't need your charity and we don't need some Soc running around here. You're a long way from home, and we don't take too kindly to your kind coming into our territory. Don't you remember what happened to your man last time he came over here? He got a blade stuck through his heart, and he deserved it too! Now unless you want to make like he did, I'd suggest you leave. Now."

At first I was too shocked to speak, or even to think. Nobody had ever spoken to me in such a harsh, hateful way before. I didn't know how to react. Scream? Cry? Run?

Dally took advantage of my confusion and pushed me roughly at the shoulders and I fell right on my butt in the grass. The greasers laughed again, but this time I was in too much shock to be embarrassed. I didn't really stop to think until Dally frowned and raised an eye brow at me. "What's in that pretty little dress of yours?"

_He felt the switch blade! _I realized in terror, and quickly I reached to get it, but Dally was seconds faster than me. I only had one hand propping me up on the grassy lot, and when Dally jumped on me to get the knife, he knocked me flat on my back. I screamed and tried to get it from him, even though I was in no position to. But just as quickly as he had knocked me down he had my arms pinned to the side with one hand, and with the free hand he reached down into my dress and pulled out the blade.

I can honestly say I don't know what was worse: having Dallas Winston trapping me beneath him, having Dallas Winston's hand down the front of my dress, or having Dallas Winston flicking open a switch blade next to my neck. I quickly decided that the worst was all three combined.

He had seemed surprised when he had felt the blade in my dress, but when he pulled it out the shock had doubled. It lasted for only a few seconds though, and then was replaced by pure hate. "This is Two-Bit's blade. You stole Two-Bit's blade, and then were stupid enough to bring it here? What the hell is in your head, air? You've got a lot of nerve, girl, too much. I think I should cut it out of you myself."

That was when the switch blade was opened, and the rest of the greasers surrounded me waiting for the inevitable fight. I sucked in my breath and watched as the shinny metal glistened by my face and then moved down to my neck.

"Wait! Dally, wait a second! I can help you, I really can!"

Dally seemed to consider for a moment, and held the blade against my neck as he turned his head slightly behind him to see the rest of the greasers. I looked over his shoulder anxiously to see what they would say. "Should we cut her, boys? Tim, Steve, what do you think?"

An older, tougher greaser, who I later realized was Tim Shepard (head of the toughest down-town gang and long-time friend of Dallas Winston), nodded but didn't say anything. Steve, the taller, leaner one who recognized me before, shrugged and said, "Cut her after she tells us what she can do. She might surprise us."

"Or just be a huge waste of time, like every other Soc," Dally muttered with annoyance under his breath. But his icy eyes locked with mine anyways and he said dryly, "OK, let's hear it."

I struggled to breathe with the weight of Dally on my gut and the knife to my throat, but I tried to explain myself anyways. "I can tell the police that Bob and the others were drunk and angry and that they picked the fight. I can verify that Johnny killed him in self defense, because Randy told me that they would have killed them both if he hadn't killed Bob first. They were drowning Ponyboy when he killed Bob, after all." The greasers seemed unconvinced so I hurried my excuse up a little. "No judge would believe a greaser over a Soc- you need me to give you credit."

They seemed to have enough sense to realize that what I had said was the truth, and Dally moved the blade away from my neck slowly. "Is that all? I think we deserve a bit more after all the problems you've caused."

I frowned, but continued. "I can tell you what's happening on my side of town, I'll be like your personal spy. Is that good enough for you?"

Dally was about to respond when he looked past me and grinned. "Hey! What are you doing walking around so crippled?" he shouted to whoever was walking towards us. The rest of the group seemed to be preoccupied by the stranger so I struggled a bit to get out from underneath Dally while everyone was distracted. Dally still wasn't completely unaware, and pressed the blade against my neck again to warn me to stop fidgeting. I calmed down instantly.

"Well, I heard a rumor that some Soc was out here partying with you, and when I saw the nice car out there, I had to see it for myself." That's when I realized I had heard that same joking voice before.

"Two-Bit!" I squeaked from beneath the blade, and in seconds I saw Two-Bit standing over Dally.

"Blast it, Dally! Don't you have any manners when it comes to sophisticated women? You don't just go throwing yourself on them." He pushed Dallas off of me and gave me his hand. Two-Bit pulled me up with a grin and said, "Well, well, Cherry. I knew I was desirable but I figured you would have called before coming here for me." The red-headed greaser winked at me and then turned to Dally. "For Pete's sake Dally, you can't always pick up my left-over's." Dally and I groaned at him, but I was happy to see Two-Bit none the less. His teasing wasn't diminutive like Dally's, and I actually felt comfortable with him there.

Turning back to me he asked, "So what are you doing so far away from home, Cherry?" Two-Bit was wearing his famous big grin that made any person want to smile with him. But his smile seemed altered by his two bruised eyes. I frowned when I saw his black eyes and he noticed. "Well, don't go around feeling sorry for me. I'll have you know the only thing I took away from that jumping was my broken nose and my black eyes. Pretty decent considering that those Soc's walked off with worse. Uh, no offense to you, Miss. Valance."

Smiling, I said, "Yeah, I heard about you getting jumped. I'm sorry about that. I brought you your knife back."

Two-Bit's blackened eyes glowed and he said, "Really? Where is it?" I pointed at Dally, and with a glare directed at me, he closed the blade and handed it to Two-Bit.

The greaser was delighted. "Hey! Thanks a bunch! Wow, you're really somethin', you know that, right?" He said as he patted me on the back.

"Your welcome. But really I'm here to tell you that I will testify in court that Bob and the rest of them were drunk and that Johnny and Ponyboy fought back in self defense."

Two-Bit never looked happier. "What? You thinking of becoming a greaser, Cherry? Because I think if we put just a little bit of oil in your hair-" He pulled at my ponytail playfully and I swatted his hand away.

"Cut it out, Two-Bit. Alright, just so were on the same page, I'm helping you, okay? So no more jumping on me and trying to slit my throat." I confirmed, directing a distasteful glare at Dally.

"Deal!" Two-Bit flicked out his blade with a mischievous smirk. "Let's seal it in blood."

Horrified, I took several steps back and screeched, "Two-Bit!"

The greasers laughed again, but this time it didn't seem as mocking as before. Two-Bit put the knife away and grinned. "Aww, Cherry. I'm just teasing you."

I shook my head, but let out a small grin. I turned to leave and ran right into Dally. In a second he had his arm around my shoulders like we were a couple and he turned us to face the greasers. "Well, now that were on the same side," he said with his usual smirk and his smooth, mocking voice, "How about I take you to The Dingo for a Coke? If I remember correctly, you do like Cokes, don't you?"

Snarling, I shook myself from his side. "Yeah, I like to throw them at you! Go to hell Dallas Winston!" I spat, and then turned on my heels and started for my car.

The gang was laughing behind me, and I heard Two-Bit yell over them, "See you later, Cherry!"


End file.
